


The Necessary Compromises of a Demanding Career

by Nevanna



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Intrusive Thoughts, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-31 01:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21034661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: Melanie's ties to the Magnus Institute strain her relationship with Georgie.





	The Necessary Compromises of a Demanding Career

**Author's Note:**

> This story interlocks with [Encouraging Employee Initiative](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20856197), and roughly follows the rest of this shared universe's continuity, but it shouldn't be too difficult to read on its own. Also, since the tags don't make this clear, neither Georgie nor Melanie are perpetrating abuse or mind control in this story (that's still mostly Elias), although other decisions will complicate things between them.
> 
> Thank you, as always, to everybody who helped to shape the Magnusquerade, and supported my contributions, here and elsewhere.

“So, what did you think?” Georgie asked as they stepped out of the theater. 

“I think I should find out if a place that shabby has some ghosts,” Melanie replied. “And if they don’t fix that balcony soon, it’ll probably have some new ones.”

Georgie elbowed her. “Of the _film_.”

Melanie had somehow never seen _Coraline_ in the years since its release, but she had thought that she would be prepared for the bits that seemed to spook so many other people. “What if you couldn’t tell?” she asked. “If someone you knew had just been… taken over, or replaced? And they didn’t have the button eyes to give them away?”

“Sounds like you’ve got a story,” Georgie remarked.

“That depends on who you ask.” Even if she’d known how to locate the mutual acquaintance who’d helped out with an episode of _Ghost Hunt UK_, a question like, _Did you kill the real Sarah so you could walk around in her skin?_ would probably not have gotten the answer that she wanted.

The conversation about the film led to comparing notes on which of Neil Gaiman’s books each of them had or hadn’t read, and how many of their classmates had started wearing ankh necklaces after picking up copies of _Sandman_. Georgie had just gotten onto the topic of _Good Omens_ – one that she seemed like she could discuss for a very long time – when she stopped abruptly and reached into her bag.

“You all right?”

After a minute, Georgie nodded. “I thought we were being followed.”

Melanie looked around. “I don’t see anyone who…”

“Still wanted to be careful.”

“I hate that shit,” Melanie grumbled. “They teach us to stay in well-lit areas and carry canisters of pepper spray and avoid the creeps.” Which didn’t stop her from carrying just such a canister in her own purse, or using it enthusiastically when she needed it. “But nobody teaches the creeps to… what’s so funny?” she snapped at Georgie’s snort of laughter.

“Sorry. You’re absolutely right. That’s not why I was laughing.” Georgie paused again. “I’m not sure what you’ll think of this.”

“Try me,” Melanie suggested. “You’re talking to someone who chases ghosts on camera so she can afford to spend her Friday night about town with a pretty girl.”

Georgie half-smiled and withdrew her hand from her bag. Instead of pepper spray, she was holding a sharpened stick that looked a whole lot like…

Melanie stared. “‘In every generation,’” she quoted solemnly, “‘there is a chosen one.”’

“I wouldn’t say I have a mystical calling to carry it,” Georgie admitted. “But I feel better when I do.”

“In case of vampires?”

“You’ve got your tales of the unexplained; I’ve got mine.”

Melanie touched Georgie’s hand. “Want to tell me about it?”

“It’s probably a lot to take,” Georgie warned her. “I’ve never told anyone else.”

“Your choice,” Melanie promised. “But if you want to come back to mine and swap stories, I’ve got a cake in the freezer that’s begging to be eaten.”

“I might need my stake after all, if…” Georgie’s voice caught, and Melanie thought the cheer in her next words sounded forced: “If your food is talking to you.”

The cake didn’t talk to them, and after Melanie cut them each a generous slice, she recounted her adventure in the Cambridge Military Hospital, and the sound engineer who was definitely not what she seemed. In return, Georgie told her about an experience in university that made Melanie reach across the table and lace their fingers together.

“So you believe me?” Georgie asked after she’d finished the story.

Melanie thought about it. “There’s no way I’ve seen every weird thing that could possibly exist.” Although the idea that any of them could just _control_ other people like that… it summoned a mixture of horror and anger that she couldn’t even begin to put into words. “But that one got what it deserved for messing with you.”

Georgie leaned over for a quick touch of lips, and Melanie pulled her to her feet and into a deeper kiss.

When Melanie woke up first the next morning, and saw the sunbeams dancing across Georgie’s bare shoulder, the shadow of her eyelashes on her cheek, it seemed much harder to believe in the things that went bump in the night.

-

Melanie slammed the file cabinet shut. “I entered all the paid holiday requests into the spreadsheet you sent,” she told her boss.

“Excellent. With so many employees gone during the summer, it’s best to anticipate how my… needs will be fulfilled.” Elias raised his eyes, and she was careful to avert hers. “You have somewhere to be, don’t you?” 

“Maybe.”

“Are you seeing someone from the Institute, then?” She didn’t answer. “Your emotions are difficult to misinterpret. Anticipation, affection, lust…” He smirked. “You could answer my very simple ‘yes or no’ question, or I could take a closer look.”

“No.” He raised an eyebrow. “No, you don’t need to poke around in my head,” Melanie clarified, “and, no, I’m not dating anyone from here.” _And, no, it’s still none of your business._ She relished her control over that thought, practically daring him to listen in and respond.

“Well, I’m certainly willing to let my employees pursue social lives outside of work, as long as you don’t lose sight of your obligations.” Elias rose from his chair and beckoned her closer. “Won’t you indulge me before you go?”

Her heartbeat sped up, her head filled with, _yes, yes, as much as you want,_ and she took a deliberate step back.

“In light of what we’ve just discussed, do you really think that now would be the best time to test my patience?” Elias asked coolly. She glared at him. “As I thought.”

When he smoothed back her hair and tilted her chin up, Melanie tried to think about the twelve-times table, then the episode list of _What the Ghost?_ in chronological order, and then of nothing at all. She let her mind float away until she barely felt the sting of fangs in her neck.

-

“Applications for UncannyCon are due soon,” Georgie said as she turned on the stove. “I’m hoping to put together another live podcast, and I’d love to have you on the show again.”

“I’ll think about it.” The simmering beef smelled so good that Melanie was starting to get dizzy. The solicitous hand on her elbow, guiding her out of the office, had been so firm, so comforting…

(_“There’s a good girl. I think that should tide me over for the weekend.”_)

Melanie took a slow breath and tried to focus on the familiarity of her surroundings: the tantalizing smells, the promotional magnets for other podcasts decorating the fridge, the rise and fall of Georgie’s chatter, the plaintive meowing as the Admiral twined around their legs in hopes of a stray morsel of meat.

“Yes, yes, your Admiralship, we know that you’ve never been fed in your life.” Georgie laid out an assortment of vegetables and a knife on the cutting board and brushed a quick kiss against Melanie’s ear. “Could you chop these while you think?” 

The blade glittered in Melanie’s hand, and the longer she stared at it, the more uses for it she could imagine. Even the most violent images somehow scared her less than the pull of placid obedience. Elias might not be able to die like a human would, but he could still bleed (_his blood strengthened her, calmed her, fulfilled her_), could still be weakened (_how dare she even try_), could probably still feel pain (_not as much pain as Georgie would feel if Melanie sliced her open_)…

She let the knife clatter to the floor.

“You all right?” Melanie probably said something, but whatever it was, it didn’t convince Georgie, who was turning off the stove, retrieving the knife, taking Melanie by the shoulders. “Talk to me.”

Melanie realized that her lips were forming the same three words over and over: “I can’t stay.” 

“What?”

“I have to leave. I can’t go anywhere with you. I can’t do this.”

Georgie’s eyes were wide. “Was it something I did?”

“Of course not.” _Except make me think I could pretend to have a life,_ but Melanie knew that was her fault alone. “Only you can’t help, either.”

“Can we at least talk about it, so I can make up my own mind?” Georgie demanded. 

“Would you believe me if I blamed it on a stressful work environment?”

Georgie stepped back and folded her arms. “Well, I might believe you if you said that the stressful work environment was literally drinking your blood.”

For just a moment, Melanie forgot about the knife. “I wasn't sure if Jon told you _that_ much."

“He told me what was going on at the Magnus Institute,” Georgie replied. “But he didn’t have to convince me that monsters were real.”

“So you remember how it feels, don’t you?” Could she still ask if Georgie’s old vampire (_master_) friend ever made her hurt anyone (_or let her remember if she had_)?

“More or less,” Georgie agreed. “You don’t need to worry that I’ll run away screaming. Or go after your creepy boss with a stake.” She scowled. “No matter how much I want to.”

_How dare she threaten him?_ pierced Melanie’s thoughts so quickly that she almost clutched her head. “One of us should,” she managed. _I have to tell him what she said, I have to make her pay._

“What do you think would happen to you if we did?” Georgie stroked Melanie’s knuckles and cut off her protest. “I’m not worried about myself. They can’t… I don’t think any of them can hurt me.”

The last time Melanie thought, _This is the hardest conversation I’ll ever need to have,_ she was making arrangements for her father’s funeral. Her next words were at least as difficult as any of those calls had been. “But _I_ could,” she whispered. “If he wanted me to.”

-

Elias seemed to enjoy making Melanie guess at which of her thoughts he’d glimpsed. She had more than one reason for shoving her last evening with Georgie to the back of her mind, and although she knew that he could dig it out if he wanted, he let several days pass before asking, “Do you have any plans for this weekend?”

“Do you want my real answer, or one that’s sarcastic and probably inappropriate for work?” she shot back. “I exist to serve you, after all.”

“Very amusing.” He didn’t beckon her closer, but she knew that he probably would, at any moment. “You know, if you were bound to Jon, you wouldn’t have to worry about what he’d let you do outside of work.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Would you just suck my blood already?”

“Why, I believe that might be the first time that you’ve ever asked on your own,” Elias practically crooned. “I would call that a promising development, wouldn’t you?”

That evening, Melanie took a detour to Artifact Storage, hoping that one of their staff would know where to find holy water.

-

When Melanie ran across Tim in the break room, she intended to nod at him and leave before she saw him grab the edge of the counter to keep from collapsing. “What’s wrong?”

His head whipped round. “You really just asked me that, didn’t you?”

She held up her hands. “Touché.”

“My _vampire master_ would put me back in tip-top shape, if he hadn’t said something about independent research and swanned off for almost a week,” Tim snarled. “And I can’t stop myself _worrying_ about whether he’s been kidnapped or hunted or, I don’t know, someone’s tossed holy water on him.”

“We could shove Jon in a vat of holy water, and nothing would happen,” Melanie said. “It doesn’t work on this lot.” As Elias had taken great pleasure in informing her when she’d tried to sneak it into his coffee. “Neither do crosses, or garlic, or most human poisons.”

“Well, haven’t you been busy?” Tim sounded less nasty than… admiring? “Listen, I’m going to get roaring drunk as soon as I walk out of here, if you want to come along. It might take my mind off… well, you probably know.”

_The need to share his blood, the bliss of serving and surrender and belonging_. “Yeah. That sounds good.” Her phone chimed with a text message, and she congratulated herself for not scrambling to grab it right away. Sometimes she caught herself thinking, _Jon would let me…_ and stopped that thought in its tracks. Even if she went through with it, she couldn’t imagine telling Georgie, _I probably won’t be whammied into attacking you, but now your ex-boyfriend is controlling my mind instead!_

The message turned out to be from Basira: _Let me know if you ever want to talk._

Melanie did, a bit, but she couldn’t always trust what she wanted. She told herself that she shouldn’t weigh Basira down with questions (_How do you survive being tied to that monster? What would you do if Daisy told you to get out of her life? Do you think I made the right decision?_), but if Melanie were honest, she didn’t want to lay any more of herself bare than she had to.

Maybe, she thought later, she should have asked, _Have you done any research on how to permanently kill a Beholding vampire?_ Maybe Basira would have had an idea that actually worked, or she would have been able to talk Melanie out of trying.

Or maybe, no matter what they discussed, Melanie still would have ended up in exactly the same place as she did a few weeks after that: sitting opposite Elias as he told her that her “little assassination attempts” had stopped being fun. 

But when he smiled and asked, “What do you think we should do about that?” she could tell that he was definitely going to enjoy whatever came next.

-

Melanie spat the taste of sick from her mouth and leaned against the sink as the knowledge of her father’s final hours swirled through her mind. Vampires from the Corruption clan, with their command of vermin and illness, had taken over his care home and… and…

…and Elias had known this from the beginning, and waited for the right moment to shove that knowledge into her head.

She tried to think of something, anything, else. The first gulps of cool air after she and her crew emerged from a supposedly haunted basement. The taste of really good curry. Dancing at her favorite nightclub. Georgie’s laugh, Georgie’s skin, the feel of her hands tightening in Melanie’s hair… but even that gave way to the hurt on her face during that last argument.

(_“So you think Bouchard will just leave me alone if he knows we’re not dating? Come on, Melanie; stuff like that doesn’t even work in the movies. You know, with superheroes and spies and the like, trying to protect…”_

_“I never said I was sure it would work. But maybe he’ll think he’s won.”_

_“Hasn’t he?”_) 

Melanie shook her head as if that would decide the answer, took a few steadying breaths, and strode down the hall and toward the elevator that would lead her to the Archives.

-

“Come in, Melanie.”

In the dim light, Jon didn’t look any paler than one might expect from a man who spent most of his time in a windowless office. The Archives didn’t get many visitors, but she thought that he just might be able to pass for human, if he wanted. Not that Melanie would ever think of him as human again.

She was proud of how steady her voice was as she said, “I’m done with Elias.” Or close enough, for now. She lifted her chin and repeated the same words that Georgie had said to her the last time they saw each other: “Do what you need to do.”

“I’m not refusing, but…” Jon stood up. “Is there… I wonder if there’s any particular reason.”

“You’ll find out, won’t you? Isn’t that how it works?”

“I thought that you might like the option of telling me.” Jon took a step toward her. “But I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Let’s just get it over with, before…” Before she ran back upstairs to Elias, who needed her, who might be a little bit harsh with her sometimes but only because he _cared_ enough to teach her where she belonged… She dug in her heels. “Before I change my mind.”

-

“Are you going to try to kill Jon, too?” Martin demanded as soon as they’d stepped into the corridor.

“It wasn’t on my to-do list for today,” Melanie replied. “Can’t promise anything about tomorrow.” Jon had promised to stay out of her head, if he could, but the link between them wasn’t going away. The urge to prioritize his safety, his happiness, his approval, was quieter and less intrusive than it had been with Elias; it was so easy to mistake those thoughts for her own that sometimes they made her even angrier. “The other clans might get to him first, you know. They’ve already tried more than once, haven’t they?”

“Are you serious?” Martin spluttered. “You know that we’d die too, don’t you?”

“And how do you know that? Because Elias said so, and he’s the picture of honesty?”

She had the satisfaction of seeing Martin deflate a little bit. “Fine,” he said. “But even if it’s not true…”

“…you just _love_ Jon so much that you can’t stand seeing him hurt?” Melanie finished for him. “And you never thought he might be _making_ you feel that way?”

Martin seemed to collect himself. “For your information, I… cared about him before he was turned. Long before.”

“Must work out nicely that he _needs_ you so much now.” Melanie pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon. “‘Oh, take me, you pompous, twitchy creature of the night!’”

“Shut up!” Martin hissed. “This is hard for all of us, but it’s not going to get any better if we’re always–” 

“Do not say ‘at each other’s throats,’” Melanie warned him.

Martin barreled on. “And, yes, I worry about what he could do to our minds. Frequently, and he knows it, and there’s nothing I can do about that. But I trust him, and I choose to believe that at least part of that is real. The only way I can see us getting through this is if we act like our choices matter. You were all about getting people to believe things they couldn’t prove, right?”

“If I wanted a lecture, I’d go back upstairs,” Melanie muttered. “And we both know that’s not going to happen.”

In the end, she apologized to him, for the things she’d said to him that day, and worse. He agreed to a truce. And neither of them raised the question of whether Jon had pushed them into it.

_Choose to trust. Choose to believe._

-

Georgie had dyed her curls a lush reddish-purple, and gotten a new hole in each ear. Instead of telling her immediately how gorgeous she looked, Melanie said, “Thanks for meeting me.”

“We both needed a break. I took one.” Georgie slid into the booth across from her. “And here I am.”

Over their drinks, Melanie told her what had happened since they’d last seen each other. Most of it, anyhow. It wasn’t exactly easy to describe the steel claws that, for a few miserable days, Elias had sunk into her brain whenever she disobeyed.

From the look on Georgie’s face, she wondered if she would even have to. 

During her silence, Melanie twisted her paper napkin between her fingers. “You were right,” she said. “When you asked to make up your own mind. You deserve that as much as I do. As much as anyone does. I’m sorry I fucked things up between us before anyone else had the chance.” She’d started tearing the paper to shreds without realizing it. “And that I tried to get rid of Jon – that wouldn’t have ended well for anyone.” Even if she’d survived it, she would probably never have seen Georgie again, but by that point, she had barely cared. Maybe she’d been tired of wondering if it was too late for them to try again.

_It could still be too late,_ she reminded herself.

“I wish you hadn’t done either of those things,” Georgie told her. “But I think I understand the first one. And when I saw how scared you were of yourself, I guess that reminded me of things I usually try not to think about.” 

“Stake or no stake.” 

Georgie nodded. “Also, I like the idea of not dying any time soon.”

She’d given enough details of her own enthrallment, and the months after, for Melanie to know that that hadn’t always been true. “Me, too.”

“Want to go for a walk?”

Melanie paid for their drinks, and, when Georgie took her hand outside the pub and let her lean close, thought that might be a good sign but didn’t push for more.

She’d learned that Dark vampires could travel through the shadows, and glanced over her shoulder a few times to make sure that the scraps of wavering darkness around them weren’t about to go for their necks. Instead of commenting on that, Georgie asked, “Didn’t you always have the option of getting...”

“You can say it,” Melanie said quickly. “Bound. Enthralled.”

“Right. Those things, with Jon. So, why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know if you’ve realized this,” Melanie told her, “but I can be a bit of a stubborn bitch. Besides, I didn’t really trust him, either.”

“Have you started to?”

“I think so. I mean, that could just be the mind control talking, but he did help me, the last time Elias messed with my head. Didn’t have to, but did anyway. And I really don’t think Jon wants to know about my private life.” She glanced sideways. “Especially if it involves his ex.” 

“And his friend,” Georgie said softly. “Which… I’m pretty sure he has a hard time compelling _me_, so I can only blame myself for that.” They both smiled. “But I’m glad you didn’t stake him.”

Melanie had told herself, when she first approached Jon, that she wasn’t working for Georgie’s friend, but for a monster that wore his skin, and part of her missed the simplicity of that. She still meant it when she said, “So am I.”

“So what do _you_ want?”

“I don’t want him or Elias to _let_ me have a life,” Melanie said. “I just want to have one. But this is the best I’ve got right now.” She gave Georgie’s hand a fierce squeeze. “Thanks again for still being in it.”


End file.
